Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(28)
I have to find some way to get over it, though. I’m taking my mom to a checkup with her oncologist after lunch, and the last thing she needs is a cranky daughter. It doesn’t help that I’m running on approximately three hours of broken sleep after tossing and turning all night, dreaming up all kinds of terrible hypotheticals. I’m a nervous wreck. What if we get bad news? What if she’s not responding to treatment the way they hoped? It’ll be ten years this spring since my dad died. I can’t lose her, too.
If I’m being honest with myself, I might admit my mood has a lot more to do with all of that. But it’s easier to blame Tyler.
Two coffees later—a decaf white chocolate mocha for me, and a hazelnut latte for my mom—I exit the Starbucks drive-through and head for the highway to her house. It’s an additional twenty-minute drive from town, so I pass the time with more of my audiobook. The hero just angrily kissed the heroine in the kitchen after she was flirting with someone else. Toxic as it may be, I live for a good jealousy scene.
Unfortunately, the story only helps so much. The closer I get to my destination, the harder it is to focus on anything other than what lies ahead. In a way, I just want to get it over with, and I feel bad for that.
Mom climbs in the passenger side, and my gaze lingers on her, concern creeping in. As recently as Thanksgiving, her chestnut hair was thick and wavy, all the way down to her collarbone. Now it’s wispy and short, tucked beneath a blue-patterned scarf. Her already-thin frame is even thinner, too. She’s as beautiful as ever, but she looks fragile.
In the console, my screen lights up with a text from Tyler—or Hades, as he’s listed in my phone—and a tiny thrill runs through me. It’s immediately followed by a whopping dose of guilt. I should be focused on other, more serious things right now.
“You look smitten, Ser-bear. Who’s the guy?” My mother teases me, her tone playful. Her cancer treatments have taken a toll on her energy level, but she still has the same upbeat attitude.
I glance over to find a knowing smile on her lips, her sparkling emerald eyes crinkling at the corners as she studies me. Either I’m being painfully obvious, or mother’s her intuition is better than I realized. I’m hoping it’s the latter.
“Oh, um… no one.” Even if I wanted to tell her, it feels weird when we’re en route to her oncology appointment. Not sure how she’d take the news that I’m living with the guy I’m crushing on, either.
“Sure seems like someone.”
“Just a guy I’ve been talking to. It’s not even a thing.”
And at this rate, it never will be.
“Mrs. Carter?” A petite nurse in pink scrubs stands in the doorway, scanning the waiting room until my mother stands up. “The doctor can see you now.”
My heart races as I follow my mother and the nurse down the wood-paneled hallway into Doctor Wilson’s office. With a sprawling glass desk and two leather guest chairs, it looks more like something I’d expect to find at a law office rather than a medical practice. But he’s one of the best oncologists on the East Coast, so that might explain the decor.
The first half of the appointment involves a lot of medical jargon, some of which I didn’t fully understand, but I ask questions and take ample notes because the chemo gives my mom brain fog and she likes to be able to re-read things later. I relax slightly as Doctor Wilson explains that they expect her to respond well to the protocol they’ve designed, and her overall prognosis is excellent. For her type and stage of cancer, the rate of survival is nearly ninety percent with early aggressive treatment like she’s receiving. Probably even better in her case because she was in such good health before. All things considered; she’s doing great.
While everything has been encouraging until this point, the mood in the room shifts markedly when he mentions something about genetic testing, reaching for a folder on the tray next to his desk. My nerves skyrocket again, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue. Did they find something else wrong with her?
He clears his throat. “As we discussed, we conducted a comprehensive genetic testing panel during the diagnostic process. The results have come back, and you’re positive for the BRCA-1 mutation. It’s helpful that your daughter is here with you today; when a patient has a positive result, we recommend testing all immediate relatives since there’s a fifty percent chance they’ve also inherited it.”
My vision tunnels, and the room turns sideways on me.
BRCA.
Fifty percent chance.
I try to make sense of what he just said, but I’m lacking critical information. I don’t know what it means other than it’s something bad, and I might have it too.
Mom reaches over and covers my hand with hers, giving it a squeeze. “I know it sounds scary, sweetheart, but it’s better to get tested and find out. If you’re negative, it’ll be a weight off your shoulders.” Despite her reassurance, her expression is tight, and there’s fear beneath the brave face she’s putting on for me. She looks more upset than when she told me about her diagnosis.
“Why? What does it mean if I’m positive?” I ask, trying to hide the wobble in my voice.
“Sera, let’s not get ahead—” she starts.
“No, tell me. Please. If you don’t, the first thing I’m going to do when I get home is Google it, and that’ll be worse.”